Quotations
by vampirealchemist13
Summary: Ficlets about Harry based on some of my favorite quotes. Any fics based on a relationship will be HarryxSeverus or HarryxDraco, so do not read if this offends. May include Ron-bashing.
1. Two Steps Ahead

**A/N:** This is not one long story. It is a series of little ficlets, at the most 5,000 words, but for the most part relatively small. They are each based on a quote that will be written at the bottom, and nearly all the stories relate to Harry being gay. Pairings throughout will include HarryxSeverus or HarryxDraco. Those are really the only Harryxmale pairings I write. **Warning:** There may be some Ron-bashing; he tends to be an ass when Harry says something in the books he doesn't like, and I can see him pitching a fit if he found out Harry was gay. This is an ongoing "story": I won't work on it as extensively as my other stories.

**BTW:** For my loyal readers who like my drabbles at the end, I won't be doing that for this, seeing as most of the chapters are extremely small and a drabble may overtake the length of the chapter :)

_**Disclaimer:**_ I do not own Harry Potter or any of the quotes. If I did, I wouldn't be writing fanfictions about them.

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It certainly wasn't news to him that the castle was talking about him. If anything, it was becoming a rather common occurrence. Of course, that didn't mean he appreciated it—it just meant he was far too used to it to do anything about it anymore.

"Mate, aren't you gonna say something?" Ron, mouth full, whispered at him from across the table. Really, the teen had no idea how disgusting it was to look in his mouth while he talked. Nevertheless, Harry continued to pile food onto his plate, ignoring the looks and gossip circulating no less than two seats down from him.

At least this time the gossip was true, not some loony trash-talk about him being the Heir to Slytherin.

As he ignored Ron's comments and Hermione's stares, he wondered what Hogwarts had talked about before he was a first year. Who was the center of the gossip station, the one that had to watch their steps and make sure no one had any dirt on them? How had they dealt with being the center of attention? Were they still at Hogwarts during his first year? If so, they must have greatly appreciated Harry's presence, he thought to himself.

First year everything had been so very new and weird, even the smallest bit of gossip had gotten to him, and Malfoy had not had an issue shouting every piece of gossip he thought he had, especially when it surrounded Harry.

_"Potter's dueling me at midnight tonight; I'll beat him for sure."_

_"Potter's from a muggle household; he doesn't know anything about being a wizard."_

_"What's the matter, Potter? Scared to fly?"_

_"Potter's been sneaking out to visit dragons, haven't you, Potty?"_

There had certainly been no shortage of gossip, but most of it was tattling. Still, there had been nothing to do but deal with it, and by the end of the year, Malfoy's garbage had been the least of his worries.

Ron interrupted his reminiscing.

"'Arry, you alright, mate? You haven't said anything since that ferret started that nasty rumor. You know it'll all blow over eventually, right?" Of course it would blow over, and of course he knew. It wasn't even like he was too worried about it.

Second year—_that_ had been an issue. All that trash-talk and gossip about him being the Heir of Slytherin. His only encounter with Slytherins had been less than pleasant to say the least; why would he even dream about joining Voldemort and killing muggleborns? Hermione, of course, was living proof he had no reason to be the heir, yet Hogwarts and her students had seen fit, once more, to make him a scapegoat.

Just like fourth year, not to mention the third year gossip from those that knew his relation to Sirius Black. Yes, his life had been full of adventure since starting Hogwarts.

The fourth year "Potter's an attention-seeking whore" comments combined with the gossip that could have gotten him expelled fifth year regarding Dumbledore's Army had been _brilliant_.

He sighed, rising from the table despite Ron's obvious movements showing he wasn't done. Five years of rumor mills and disturbing gossip, true or false, outrageous or not, and he was still alive and intact. If anything, by year six, he had started to learn a thing or two.

_"Copernicus."_ The Fat Lady portrait swung open, and he waved at Luna Lovegood, sharing a conspirational wink before climbing the steps to his dorm room for an early bedtime. The day had certainly been interesting to get through. He thought back to breakfast.

_"Luna, can I ask you a favor?" The girl looked over her shoulder at him as he motioned towards the corner._

_"What is it, Harry?" He made sure no one was listening in on their conversation before leaning in to whisper in her ear._

_"I need you to somehow let it slip to Malfoy that I told you I'm gay." She looked at him incredulously, an expression that was quite out of place on her face—normally she was the one freaking everyone else into silence._

_"Are you?" He nodded. "So by getting everyone accustomed to it through the rumor mill, when you actually come out, it won't be as big a surprise." She had caught on unsurprisingly fast. That was why he trusted her with it._

_"I'll do my best, Harry."_

_"Thanks, Luna."_

_"Good luck with the day. Look out for those foofle snorlackles."_

_"I'll be sure to do that." His patented answer for all that nonsense._

Falling asleep, he realized he was getting better at the celebrity-media concept, something he had previously thought impossible.

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***Pay no mind to those who talk behind your back. It simply means that you are two steps ahead.*

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**PLEASE REVIEW! I 3 YOUR OPINIONS! NO FLAMES PLEASE**


	2. Sounding Smart

**A/N:** My friend said this one to me today and I got an idea, so I wrote another one right away. There's probably gonna end up being a lot of these, because I love nearly every quote I hear :) This one has one-sided romance--Harry likes Severus, and Severus is friendly with Harry, but not necessarily romantic-friendly. It's more about the banter than anything else.

enjoy!

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"What a sodding git!" Not for the first time, Ron emerged from the Potions classroom, fuming and having lost a fair few points for his house, which none of his mates appreciated. Harry, rather than being irritated at Snape like Ron, was silently laughing, believing Ron quite deserving of the detention and point loss. After all, when you throw lacewing flies at Professor Snape, declare he is the most annoying git in school, and then blow up a potion, turning yourself blue, what do you expect?

Harry found himself understanding Severus Snape's sense of humor much more recently, and, consequently, his temper as well. Therefore, Harry now knew what was and was not safe to do or say during class. Insulting the Master in his own domain—on the list of things to not do.

"Really, Harry, how can you be attracted to someone so—like him?" Harry threw the redhead a glare, telling him to keep his trap shut. He had not yet told the student body, and he would prefer them to not find out just yet. "I know, but still?" Knowing the idiot would keep talking until Harry said something, he chose to ignore the other teen in favor of speeding ahead to Charms.

It was hardly Harry's fault that shortly after realizing he was gay he had also realized he was attracted to Professor Snape, right? Of course, in Ron's eyes, being gay was completely his choice, not the way he was.

Hermione had been much more understanding, saying whatever he did or was in life, she would accept—being a Death Eater was pretty much the only exception, she claimed.

As if by magic, Severus Snape stepped straight into Harry's path, and, of course, he had not been paying attention.

Somehow, the Boy-Who-Lived managed to make falling to the ground look graceful, or so he was later told. He was too focused on his things scattering across the floor and Snape a mere two feet away.

"Really, Potter, acting once more as though you own the school is not the way to be, wouldn't you say? You always manage to end up on the floor." The intimidating man simply raised an eyebrow as Harry chose to ignore his words. Lately, he had taken to not responding to the biting words, afraid something he didn't want to come out would.

"Turned mute, have we?" Harry looked up, attempting to look passive and unaffected. He desperately wanted to say something, anything, but everything he thought of sounded stupid.

_"Nope, just don't want to talk to you, Snape."_ That one would get him detention for sure.

_"No, I just couldn't think of anything to say that wouldn't sound stupid, Professor."_ One way trip to mockery and, possibly, a detention.

"No, just deaf." Had he just said that one out loud? The look on Snape's face informed that yes, yes he had.

"Well then, your lip-reading skills have tremendously improved, Potter. Maybe you should apply the effort you did to that to your studies." And Snape had—NOT—given him detention; the surprises kept coming.

_"Just because you're a git doesn't mean I can't do Potions," _was what almost came out. What came out instead was—

"But if I did well in Potions, who would you mock?" Was he really bantering with the Professor in the halls for all to witness?

"As we've all just witnessed, Mister Potter, I do believe Mister Weasley would satisfy that position. Do not presume to think you are irreplaceable."

_"I know I'm not irreplaceable."_

"I am one of a kind, and you know it, Sn—Professor." The Potions Master gave him a secretive grin disguised as a smirk; the man was having as much fun with this as he was.

"Unfortunately, this is true. What would I do without you having the gall to steal from my stores or fall asleep in my class?" Harry was surprised to discover the Professor had a bit of drama in him; he would have done well in a muggle play.

_"Rejoice?"_

"Perhaps manage to finish grading papers and assignments on schedule."

"Perhaps, Mister Potter. I do believe you are late for your next class; you should pay better attention." And with that, the sinister-looking, quick-witted man turned on his heel and billowed back to the dungeon.

As Hermione was handing him his last book and Ron began commenting on how odd that was and how everyone must be gong daft, he grinned. He was getting better at talking to Snape without losing points or ending up in detention; maybe it wouldn't be such a bad year after all. He heard his name and turned to the direction it was called from.

"Mister Potter, detention tonight after dinner."

Then again, maybe he still needed a little work.

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***It is easy to sound smart. Simply think of something stupid to say, then say the opposite.*

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**PLEASE REVIEW! NO FLAMES! Other than that, I LOVE your opinions!!!  
**


	3. Don't Smoke

**A/N:** I thought this would be fun to update since it hasn't been done in a while and I was in the mood for something short and sweet.

NO ROMANCE - HARRY AND DRACO INTERACTION - DRACO POV - mentions subtle hints of suicide, but not much. ENJOY!

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How had he been reduced to this? He gave a sick-sounding cough and winced; it was his first cigarette and, thus far, he couldn't see the appeal. Still, he'd needed _something_, and Merlin knew alcohol was simply out of the question; he could never stand to act so lowly.

Then again, here he was, Draco Malfoy, in the middle of Muggle London, smoking a disgusting cigarette. Clearly, his operational definition of "lowly" had changed over the last few months, but where?

After Potter had, predictably, won the Final Battle, Draco had found that he was unsure of what to do. With his father dead and his mother, quite frankly, insane, he had no one left to give him orders. Saved only by Potter's testimony at the trials, the Slytherin students had been given a second chance, free of their Death Eater parents and their _dark ways_. Potter, being overly noble, had not used those exact terms, but the intent had been clear.

Still, the other Slytherins had found themselves in a similar position to Draco, but, unlike Draco, they had someone to turn to—Draco, of course. He had been their leader; surely he must know what to do now? But no, he was not too proud to admit that, at that time, he hadn't had the answers.

And, smoking a cigarette here in London, he still didn't.

He had forced himself to finish the school year, passing his NEWTS with not-stunning marks, and disappeared from the Wizarding World without a trace. He had enough money in his trust fund—his parents' vaults had been confiscated by the Ministry, of course—to last him quite a while in the Muggle world, but he hadn't known _how_ to live on his own—in the Wizarding World or here.

But now, two years later, he just didn't want to do it anymore. In the Wizarding World, he was a pariah. The rest of Slytherin had found their places—they had either wizened up or gone back to the Dark ways. They were productive members of society or wasting away in Azkaban, respectively. But Draco Malfoy would forever be remembered as the son of Voldemort's right-hand man. The Malfoy heritage and wealth had always made them unpopular in public.

Add to that the attitude they'd adopted over the last few decades and their affiliation with the Dark Arts and it was not likely that Draco Malfoy would last long without a brick being shot at his head.

And in the Muggle World? No one knew him; it was not a feeling he was accustomed to. Suddenly he was reminded of the question Severus had once asked him before his godfather's death—would you rather be hated or ignored? Draco now knew which he preferred, but he didn't fancy dealing with either.

Maybe that was why he was here, smoking a cigarette on the corner of some no-name street in Muggle London. He knew where his life was headed anyways—why not help it along? He could do it anytime, take a step into the street, trip down the stairs to the Underground…but when push came to shove, he was too much of a coward.

And that was why he was here, smoking a cigarette on the corner of some no-name street in Muggle London. Because he was scared.

He was scared of the spite in the Wizarding World. Scared of the anonymity of the Muggle World. Scared to actually end it. So he complained to himself, knowing he'd never do a damn thing about it.

Of course, when all hope seems lost, when everyone seems to have given up and the last light is flickering at its edge…that's when Harry "Boy-Who-Lived-Twice" Potter has to step in and save the day—or Draco Malfoy—from unspeakable evil and death.

"Really, Malfoy? I imagined you dying in a somewhat…dramatic fashion." Draco forced his eyes from his own shiny black shoes to Potter's, giving the man a classic once-over. He was surprised to note that, despite the lack of style the boy had displayed as a student, he'd grown into an apt dresser. Even his hair seemed under control, though just barely, and the usual glasses were gone.

But the scar—the scar gave him away from being just another guy on the street.

"Funny, I imagined you dying a lot at Hogwarts, some of them dramatic. And what's not dramatic about smoking away the day, wallowing in self-pity, Potter?" He had begun with the closest thing he could get to a witty retort—a lack of social company in the Muggle World had certainly taken its toll on his repertoire—and ended with an empty challenge. _Mock me_, he mentally dared his childhood rival. _Start a fight like we used to…_ Anything to remind him of better days.

"I guess I imagined a tragic Quidditch accident with hundreds of girls falling to their knees in despair; a classy funeral with hundreds of pictures of you, all proclaiming your awesomeness." He said it in such a deadpan tone, Draco almost laughed. When he remembered who he was talking to, though, he sobered up rather quickly, dropping the cigarette and extinguishing it with his foot.

"I believe tragic Quidditch accidents were always more your style, Potter. I had a little more grace and finesse on a broomstick." He didn't miss the smirk Potter returned, no doubt remembering all the times that, despite Draco's supposed "finesse and grace", he'd never managed to best the Gryffindor in catching the snitch.

"If I had a drink, I would drink to that, Malfoy," he said with a chuckle before the smile dropped. "Look, Malfoy…"

"Save it, Potter." The ex-Gryffindor's eyebrows knitted together and Draco found that he was being interrupted this time.

"No, I get to say something first. You don't owe me anything, but I'm asking you a favor—don't waste what you've got on something as stupid as this." Here, Draco's eyes shot open in shock; Potter actually looked like he was pleading with Draco to hear what he was saying.

"And what have I got, exactly?"

"Freedom. And choices. And it looks like some of the ones you've been making are the wrong ones, but you've still got time to change that." Here, he straightened himself up and took a step back. "I've got to get to work—would you believe I'm a Muggle lawyer now? I defend people that don't have the money to do it themselves; of course, I always make sure they're innocent first…" He gave a classic dopey smile; clearly, growing up had not made him any less of a child on the inside.

"Because I care, Potter," Draco shot back, though secretly he did. How had Potter been living here long enough to become a lawyer, and without him having heard about it? But Potter, Merlin damn him, was very classy despite Draco's rudeness.

"You probably don't, but if you did…" And Draco noticed a flick in Potter's right hand and felt something slip into his pocket beside his hand. "See you around, Malfoy."

And he was gone before Draco could have uttered a response, which he wouldn't have. Somehow, Potter probably knew that.

From his pocket, he withdrew a small white rectangle with _Harry J. Potter_ written across the top in dramatically classy script—his business card. On the back was only a few words, but they made Draco begrudgingly grin; maybe he would see Potter around.

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_Don't smoke; there are way cooler ways to die._

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**Please Review :)**


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